Autumn Geese
The geese that southward wend in flocks
Across this northern clime,
Speak in silhouetted memory
Of a summer that is gone.
I shall miss them for whatever destiny
Upon their wings is drawn,
But I know that fate encircles each of us
And seasons run in rhyme,
And who we are is where we were
When love and light were one,
And geese that southward wend their way
Will homeward with the sun.
-->
-- Bheka Pierce
No comments:
Post a Comment